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LOVE INDEED.
Our love is done!
1 would not have it back, I say,
I would not have my whole year May 1
But yet for our dead passion’s sake,
Kiss me once more and strive to make
Our last kiss the supreme one;
uii For love is done.
Our love is done!
And still my eyes with tears are wet.
Our souls are stirred with vain regret;
We gaze farewell, yet cannot speak.
And firm resolve grows strangely weak,
. Though hearts are twain that once were
one,
Since love is done.
But love is done!
t know it, vow it, and that kis3
Must set a finis to our bliss.
Yet when I felt thy mouth meet mind
My life again seemed half divine.
Our very hearts together run I
Can love be done?
Can love be done?
Who cares if this be mad or wine?
Trust not my words, but read my eyes,
Thy kiss bade sleeping love awake;
Then take me to thy heart; ah I take
The life that with thine own is one.
: Love is not done!
1. —Toronto Truth.
NAPOLEON’S WOOING.
1* - BY GEORGE A. HARRIS.
f OOKING his own
supper over a blazing
wood fire one hot
S*®* evening in July, Na-
poleon Crowe felt
tbat h e was indeed
* k° rn to misfortune
*Wlike the sparks that
fc. ^ ew u P war d.
A For forty years he
:• ^ | stubby had tilled little the stony, farm
£ which
1 m K at its best had
never yielded its
owner more than a precarious living, and
now at the age of sixty he was alone in the
world, having a few months previously
buried his third wife.
Whether it was owing to an inherent
delicacy of constitution, a lack of ap¬
preciation and tenderness on his part,
or a too continuous diet of stewed yel¬
low-eyed beans and pork, we are unable
to determine, but for some mysterious
reason Napoleon’s wives refused to thrive
on his hands, and drooped und pined
away, one after another, until he was al¬
most convinced that in bis case marriage
‘ failure.
was a
That he had been his own housekeeper
for a period of seven months, every room
and closet in the dreary old farmhouse
bore evidence, and the numerous scars
©n his hands and anus, testified to the
burns and scalds he had received during
bis cooking operations.
For Napoleon was peculiarly unfortu-
nate in his culinary experiments. If af-
ter serious reflection, he decided that he
could afford a small roast for the Sunday
•tinner, to which he invariably invited
his old crony, Jotham Sparks, that roast
—so tenderly watched and jealously
guarded for hours—was in the end tern-
poranly forgotten, while Napoleon was
grappling with the biscuit problem, and
burned to a blaektned crisp.
He baked beans without pork, forgot
to put the meat in his soups, or the Isalt
and pepper in his vegetable bash; left out
the sweetening from his apple pies, the
salt from his butter, the eggs from his
custards, and wondered why he had no
appetite.
After a multitude of disastrous tailures
similar to the ones we have recorded,
Napoleon resolved he would, from mo¬
tives of economy and otherwise, confine
himself exclusively to a diet of flour bis¬
cuit, hot from the oven, alternating with
such relishes as molasses, fried pork fat,
and the unsavory production which once
in four weeks he churned, and spanked
and patted with bis big, hairy hands,
and designated as “butter.”
Three times a day regularly, Napoleon
produced a small wooden dough dish,
and after mixing together sour milk,
salexatus aud flour, toiled and sweated
over the sticky mass until it went into
the oven huge, unsightly lumps of spot¬
ted dough, and came out the same.
It might have been the legitimate re¬
sult of eating his own hot biscuit, but
within a few weeks he had develoyed in¬
to a gloomy pessimist. Uc neglected the
poultry and stock, allowed the weeds to
flourish in the garden, and seemed to
have lost all interest in life.
Everything went wrotg with Napoleon.
The old cow ran dry three months earlier
than usual, and the two-year-old heifer
choked to death in her stall. As a
natural sequence, his groans and sighs
became louder and more frequent.
Thirty hens and two roosters cackled
shrilly jrom morn till night, and though
he crawled under the bara on his hands
and knees, and climhed ladders to the
highest scaffolds at the risk of breaking
his neck, not a solitary egg gladdened
his anxious eyes.
One morning his friend and sympa¬
thizer, Uncle Jotham Spark9, called be¬
fore breakfast to borrow a rake.
‘•Just havin’ a bite, hey?” observed
Uncle Jotham, his eyes wandering to the
bare pine table adorned by a tin of steam¬
ing yeliow biscuit.
“Ya-a-s,” answered Napoleon in a dis¬
satisfied tone, “I’m tryin’ to heat a drop
o’ water to make a cup o’ tea to go with
them ere biscuits. Won’t you hev a bis¬
cuit, Jotham?”
“JK-aouo,” responded Jotham with
alacrity. “Thanky, I’ve been to break¬
fast an hour ago.”
“I know it’s late,” sighed Napoleon,
“but I've had a regular tussle to heat
this dipper o’ water. I broke my tea¬
kettle by pourin’ cold water in it when it
was red hot, and I hain’t had any tea¬
kettle to use all summer. It’s ter’ible
hard for a man that hain’t never been
used to putterin’ roimd the house to do
their own cookin’ ana housework.”
“It must be, I vum,” said Jothom,and
he edged away to an open window to
avoid an offensive odor that arose from a
bean pot on the stove hearth.
“Jotham,” said he solemnly, “ Jotham,
ain’t you seen, can’t you see that I’m
failin’ from the crust?”
Jotham shook his head mournfully as
he stooped to light his pipe.
“Yes, Napoleon, I’ve seen all summer
that you’ve been failin’; you’ve grown
old, and thin, and gray, and bent over,
and don’t look much like the man you
was a year ago.”
“Do you think I’m pinted for the
grave, Jotham?” he groaned.
“No,” said he bluntly, “but you
won’t live six months unless you git
some woman here to cook your vittles,and
do your washin’, and keep the house
wholesome, Why don’t yon hire a
woman, and her sc much a week.”
“I couldn’t afford it; all the income I
git from the farm wouldn’t pay her
wages. I think myself, not relishin’ my
vittles has something to do with my on-
happy feelins’.”
“You might git merried,” suggested
Jotham.
“Ya-a-s, I’ve thought o’ that. I know
of a smart, likely woman that’s wuth
some prupputty that I think would jump
at the chance to git me to-day. She’s a
widder that I courted some when I was
young, and lives on a farm somewhere
in Stoughton. I’d slick up a little, and
go up and see if she would like to
change her condition, if ’twasn’t for the
neighbors talkin’. You know I hain’t
been a widderrer this last time only
about seven months.”
“I know, but circumstances alters
cases and if 'you can’t afford to hire a
housekeeper, you had better hunt up a
wife lively. Let the folks taik if they
want to. You hev a smart woman come
here, and scrub and scour, and brighten
up things, and cook you three good
temptin’ meals every day, and you’d soon
begin to fat up, and be as strong and
ambitious to work as ever you wa3 in
your life. Now, I do hope Napoleon,
you realize jest how slim and peaked
you are lookin’, and if you don’t want to
slip your wind afore the snow flies, take
ray advice, and marry that ’ere widder
just as soon as she’ll hev you,” and tak¬
ing his rake, Jotham departed, leaving
Napoleon to his thoughts which were not
plaasant by any means.
For several days after, Napoleon
wandered around in a discontented,
absent-minded way, as though he was
uncertain whether to take Jotham's ad-
vice or not.
At length, on this hot July evening
when we introduce him to our readers,
having nearly caused a conflagration by
upsetting a kerosene lamp which ex-
ploded in the flour barrel, Napoleon
gnashed his teeth, as he tore around the
room in his efforts to extinguish the
flames, and vowed he would have a wife
to cook his suppers before the week was
out.
“Ain’t this a pooty way for a man o’
my years to be livin’ ?” he muttered sav¬
agely, as he vainly tried to make the
lantern wick burn. “There the danged
thrag has gone out, and I might as well
give up—I’ve got to set here in the
dark, or else crawl to bed without a
solitary nibble o’ nothin’ in my poor
stumraock, and I’m ready to faint.
S’pose I’ll put up with this any longer?
not by a jugful! If the sun rises to¬
morrow mornin’, it’ll see me streakin’
for the Widder Spooner's! Let the
neighbors talk if they want to, what
they say don’t put slap-jacks into my
mouth, or mend the big holes in my
stockin’s. Yes-sir-ee,” and he snapped
his fingers defiantly. “Let ’em talk; I
don’t giv a dang. If Eunice Spooner
will hev me, we’ll be merried short-off;
that’s flat.”
The Widow Spooner was in her straw¬
berry patch pulling up the weeds, and
she was about to throw them over the
fence as little Kictie Henderson came
rushing around the corner.
“O, Aunt Eunicel” she exclaimed
breathlessly: “Mamma sent me over to
borrow some cream of tartar, and don’t
you think the awfulest looking old
tramp has followed me way through the
w oods, and he’s sitting down on the big
rock in the lane now! Oh, dearl I
daren’t go home, what shall I do?” and
Kittie began to cry.
“Tramp, hey?” said the widow,
coolly, “that’s nothin’ new. I’ve been
jest pestered to death with tramps this
summer. There was two called here last
night, and they was jest as sassy as a
lord, and wanted me to give ’em some
supper, but they didn't git any, jest the
same. You wait a minute till I can look
after my bakin’, and I’ll go home through
the woods with you, Kittie. I never see
the tramp yet I was afraid of.”
With Kittie following close at her
heels, Mrs. Spooner proceeded to the
kitchen, where, thowing open tho oven
doors, she displayed a pair of beautifully
browned chickens which sent forth a
most appetizing odor.
“There, Kittie, jest look at my fowls,
ain’t they doin’ lovely? I’ve been doin’
lots of cookin’ to-day, and I do wish
some interestin’ company would happen
along. I’ve had signs of a stranger all
the afternoon; two chair backs got to¬
gether, and I bumped my elbow ag’in
the pump handle—’’
At that moment there came a loud
knocking at the door. Kittie gave a lit¬
tle shriek.
“It’s-—it’s—him, auntie!” she gasped.
“It’s the old tramp.”
“Is it?” said the widow, brusquely.
“Jest let me git my weapons ready, and
I’ll soon start him goiu’.”
With a saucepan of boiling hot water
in one hand, aud a fire shovel in the
other, Mrs. Spooner advanced boldly to
the door.
In the semi-twilight stood a seedy-
looking individual, wearing a siouch hat
and covered with dust.
“Could—you—ahem—give—me—”he
began in a hesitating manner, then hastily
retreated a few steps as he caught a
glimpse of the war-like implements in
the hands of the widow.
“Yes, I’ll give you,” cried the widow,
“a good whackin’ with my shovel, and
a scaldin’ to boot, if you ain’t off my
premises before I can count ten. You
great, lazy loafer. Ain’t you ashamed
round trampin’ and beggin’ your livin’?
Why ain’t you workin’ on some railroad,
diggin’ ditches, you shiftless hulks?”
“I—I—hain’t round beggin’ no livin’,”
stammered the man, his eyes firmly riv¬
eted on the widow’s weapons. “I—ain’t
no tramp neither I’ll have you to know—
I—”
“Oh, no, you’re »o tramp, none of
’em is, you’re a bank president most
likely. Come, git; put yourself 1”
“I won’t stir a blarsted peg,” he splut¬
tered. “You can’t drive me till I’ve
had a chance to tell you who—”
“I can’t, cant I? We’ll see about that,
you wretch. Follow me with tne tea¬
kettle, Kittie, I’ll scald him to death.”
Mrs. Spooner's appearance as she
screamed out these words was more that
of a modern Amazon than a staid elderly
widow, and with a smothered shriek the
man fled precipitately before her, never
pausing until he ignominiously tumbled
over a rock-heap by the roadside.
“There, Kittie,” exclaimed Mrs.
Spooner, as she came into the kitchen
flushed and triumphant, “I’ve sent him
about his business. I’ve learned by ex¬
perience that soft words don’t count with
the tramp gentry, and I guess this per-
tickler one won’t visit me ag’in.”
“Why, auntie,” said Kittie, staring
hard out of the window, “heain’t gone;
he’s sitting down by the barn now.”
“Why, how you talk. Has he had
Impudence to come back here? Well, of
now you jest wait; I’ll start him out
my door-yard, or I’ll know the reason
why!"
With hurried and determined steps she
took her way down to the spot where a
forlorn-looking figure was seated on a
huge bowlder, sorrowfully rubbing his
knee-joints. the world
“Come,” said she, “what in
do you mean by hangin’ round here?
Why don’t—bless my soul—this ain’t—
it can’t be—Napolecn Crowe?”
“Yes, it’s me,” said Napoleon plain¬
tively.
“Took to trampin’ round the country,
and scarin’ little girls? You!”
“It’s a danged mistake, ” said he. “I
hain’t trampin* round no country, nor
scarin’ no little girls either, I wasn’t
never in this place before, and I didn’t
know fur certain which house you lived
in, and so I was goin’ to inquire if you
could give me any idee of where the
Widder Spooner lived, and you come at
me with a fire shovel and a buckcc o’
bilen water.”
“Why didn’t you tell your name?”
“You didn’t give me no chance, did
you? I tried to tell you my name, but I
couldn't get a word in edgeways. I ex¬
pected a different welcome from you,
Eunice, bein’s we was alius such good
friends, and I’d walked fifteen miles to
ask you to marry me.”
A warm flush rose to the widow’s sun¬
burned cheeks. If it was a person on
earth who had always held a warm cor-
ner in her heart, it was Napoleon
Crowe.
“Napoleon,” hazarded she, “it was a
dretful misunderstanding.”
“I should hope it was,I swan,” sighed
Napoleon, still rubbing his bruised
knees.
“It was all Kittie’s fault; she told me
there was a tramp at the door, and I was
that mad and excited I never took a
good look. You’ve no idee how I’ve
been pestered with thievin’, sassy
tramps, Napoleon.”
“I don’t doubt it,Eunice. You hadn’t
ought to be livin’ here all alone.”
“You hain’t goin*, Napoleon. Do
stop and have some supper—”
“Do you really wane me too,Eunice?”
“Of course I do, Napoleon, and we’ll
have roast chicken and cream biscuits.”
“And you’ll hev me, Eunice!”
“I will, Napoleon.”—Yankee Blade.
Rees Guided by Colors of Flowers.
Because some oae cut the petals from
a blue lobelia, and then found that the
bees did not visit it afterwards, though
there were honeyed secretions in the base
of the flower, the opinion has been ad¬
duced that bees are guided to flowers
solely by color in cases where flowers
have no fragrance. But most American
observers know that bees visit flowers
that have neither color nor fragrance. In
the lobelia case the bee probably took
ihe flower for a dead flower, which it
knew from experience it was useless to
visit. Bees are sensible creatures.—New
Orleans Picayune.
It is customary in Sweden to htng the
doorkey up outside the house to fihow
tfcat the family is not at home.
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Moire silk is coming into favor again*.
Most of the evening bonnets are white.
Blue and medium shades of green are
n great favor.
Queen Victoria was married when she
,vas twenty-one years old.
Little bows knots of white enamel are
t novelty in lace pins.
The Empress of China is reported to
5e making a determined effort to learn
;he English language.
A woman suffrage petition with 10,000
signatures has been sent in to the Parlia¬
ment of New Zealand.
The almost exclusive use of hooks and
eyes has thrown hundreds of button-hole
workers out of employment.
There are 38,000 female land-owners
n England and Wales, 20,000 of whom
iarm on their own account.
The cloth gowns which were so popu¬
lar last year are again in vogue, in
nedium, light and dark tints.
One of the latest decrees from Salvation
Army headquarters forbids the women
jf the Army to wear earrings.
Wide sleeves and flounce of lace or
ihiffon about the shoulders has the effect
af making the waist look small.
An audacious American woman in
Rome is said to have asked the Queen of
Italy where she got he*- bonnets.
Native Christian women in China have
formed a society to discourage the cus¬
tom of compressing the feet in child¬
hood.
The favorite amusement of the ladies
af Lisbon, Portugal, is carriage driving,
but it is a rare sight to see a girl on
horseback.
Queen Victoria has completely
“merged from her former solitude, and
rery frequently visits the neighbors cf
her different estates.
Mine. Modjeska, the Polish actress, is
laid to be proficient in half a dozen
languages, including some of the difficult
tongues of Eastern Europe.
Following the example of India and
Japan, the Siamese are about to establish
s school for native girls of high rank
under the management of English ladies.
Crape-finished China silk, in designs
of stripes of a single color, or in contrast,
is an inexpensive fabric for charming
house dresses, teagowns aud evening-
dresses.
Rhoda Broughton, the English novel¬
ist, is at present profoundly interested in
her House of Rest for Horses, where she
see 3 to it that they receive the very best
treatment.
Miss Martha Morton, the playwright,
is under thirty years of age. She is a
woman oi medium height, with an inter¬
esting face and a head covered with
dark brown hair.
Queen Natalie, of Servia, is a very
handsome woman, with fine black eyes
and a supurb complexion, tut a tendency
to embonpoint makes her appear older
than she really is.
The first woman candidate to pass the
Alabama State medical examination—
3aid to have been an unusually severe
written examination—is Mrs. H. T. Dil¬
lon, a colored woman.
William Lloyd Garrison told the Mass¬
achusetts Woman’s Suffrage Association
a few days ago that he hoped that his
children might live to see a woman
President of Harvard College.
Women do the business of the town of
Lexington, Miss., to a large extent. Miss
Dixie Cole is the express agent, Miss
Emily Wright the postmistress, and Miss
Mollie Hoskins the telegraph agent.
There is a fashion now of wearing a
band of satin ribbon round the throat—-
the color of the gown—fastened at the
back with a small rosette and two long
suds that r&3et to the bottom of the
skirt.
In New York City, two smart young
dressmakers will come to your house and
make you a dress out and out, complete
and beautifully $2.50 fitting, in one day.
They charge each and the price is
cheap.
In a recent lecture in the British Mu¬
seum, London, Miss Millington Lathbury
declared that the women of ancient
Greece ^ere far inferior to the women
of the preseot day, both physically and
intellectually.
A new industry for women is the man
ufacture of tissue paper flowers, roses,
pinks, sunflowers, and other varieties, j
Twenty girls are employed in a Buffalo i j
(N. Y.) tissue paper establishment owned
by two womem.
Yeddo crepe is one of the lovlieat
materials for the dainty little home
frocks the womanly woman loves so
well. It comes in all the soft, tender
shades, is very reasonable in price,
drapes perfectly and does not crush.
The ladies of Winnsborough, S. C.,
have a canning establishment which is
directed by one of their own number,
and operated by themselves in every de¬
tail except tending the boiler. It is said
to be a model factory, not only for the
neatness and carefulness displayed, but
for the convenient system shown in han¬
dling and preparing the goods.
fresh You a long can always time in keep butter aud]
out ioe, wrapping large warm weather J
a porus pot j
wet milk, cloth and inverting it over the J
or The external evaporation i
the interior.
Questions Often Askeg,
Q. A. What Alabastine Is Alabastine ?
ftntc£ilwT and ceili ne is 13 a a dura durabIe coatin e for,
Q. Is it the same as kalsomines?
d ” er ,Tom l
A. It is made from a cement that eoestu
a process of setting on the wall, aud
harder with age. u
A. 9* Wb*t From are whitings, kalsomines chalks, made clays from?
powders for a base, and entirely or otheri de»J
glue to hold are
Tipon them on the wall
U. Why do kalsomines rub and scale?
•ubstance Q. Does the ? Alabastine contain anv • iniJ “J®j
and A. Alabastine is recommended has been by most leading carefullvtJ sanital
throughout the country, on account nd UI I
sanitary Q- What nature.
has the same investigation 3tl !
regarding A. Sanitarians wall paper condemn ? in temJ
use of wall for walls of living* strong ro-?-
of the paper
account Q. Can poison used in its manufartnl
Alabastine anything ? but plain work be done J 1
the A. most Any elaborate kind of work, decorating from plain be tintiJ
Q. How can I learn to do this can work done] and]
orate my house ? gJ
A. By writing the Alabastine Company,
Rapids,_ suggestions, Mich., and for illustration book of instructions] of stencils''
showing free. six sets of tinted wall designs.'
vinegar You can by simply make your adding own five white] galloj
rainwater sins and letting to ten it pounds stand in of mashed] warmp]
a
for a month._
BROwn’s Iron Bitters cures Dyspepsia,11 Debility.
ria. Biliousness and General 9
Strength, appetite. aids Digestion, The tones tonic the forNul nerl
creates best
Mothers, weak women and children.
We give advice, but we cannot give the
dom to profit by it.
Savannah, Mr. J. H. Ga., Estill, President Morning News!
says: “ A member of my faa
for who twenty has been years, a martyr has found to neuralgic in Bradycrotid headaj
infallable remedy for headaches.”
The worst cases of female weakness Samples] reJ
yield to Dr. Swan’s Pantiles.
Dr. Swan, Beaver Dam. Wis.
medicine Bbkcham’s chest, Pills and take should the place be kept of an tot etj
in every family. 25 cents a box.
Tested by Time. For Bronchial affect
Coughs, etc,, Prown’s Bronchial Troches
proved their efficacy by a test of many j
Price 25 cents.
m jsrff* Ik * 9 "/M
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S3 5 S:
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i i
Rev. James J*. Stone
of Lower Cabot, Vt., formerly of
Dalton, N. H.
A Faithful Past
Is held In high esteem by his people, at
opinion upon temporal as well as spit
matters is valued greatly. The follow
from a clergyman long influential in
England, now spending well earned ra
the beautiful town of Cabot, Vt.:
“C. I. Hood ft Co., Lowell, Mass.:
“We have used Hood’s Sarsaparilla In our fam
many years past, with great benefit. V*
with confidence, recommended it to others foi
various ailments, almost all of w hom have c«
to the great benefit by Its use. We can
Honestly and Cheerfull
recommend It as the best blood purifier w
ever tried. We have used others, but note vffl
beneficial Pills and Olive effects Ointment of Hood’s. invaluable. Also, we deem H* 8 EJ 1
'
cannot do without them.” Rev. J. P. S-rost I
Better than Col
Mr. Geo. T. Clapp, of Eastond^le, Mass.,
am 82 years of age and for 30 years have A
with running sores on one of my legs. A 1**1
ago I had two toes amputated, physicians MB
was suffering from gangrene and had but
A Short Time to Live
Eight months ago at the recommendatlos
neighbor who had used It with benefit, I begas
lag Hood's Sarsaparilla. The whole lower ptf* 3
leg and foot was a running sore, but It has **
completely healed and I can truthfully say tM*
la better health than I have been for manjl
I have taken no other medicine and consider I
owe sail my improvement to
Hood’s SarsapariiH
Hood’s Pillo are purely vegetable and®
beet liver lnvlgorator and cathartic.
IS
jowoooooooooooooooooodo#*®**^*
' FRIEND”
<2? To Young
mg* A _ Mothei
tiki V
T __________
Makes Child Birth Easy !
Shortens Labor,
Lessens Pain,
Endorsed by the Leading Physician-
Hook to ,, 3tothor* ,> mailed
BRADFIELD RECULATOR CO
ATLANTA, DRUGGISTS. GA.
SOLD BY ALL